


The Knudhavn Conspiracy

by danpuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Conspiracy Theories, Crystal Healing, F/F, Luna Lovegood Fest 2021, Magizoology, Muses, Quibbler, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff
Summary: Cho never saw herself investigating conspiracy theories in Sweden or falling for strange girls, but part of growing up is letting go of childhood dreams and chasing new ones.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14
Collections: Luna Lovegood Fest 2021





	The Knudhavn Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to CharmRune for the beta read, especially last minute as it was! Thank you to Eddie, my partner in life-love-and-everything, for the alpha reads and encouraging me every step of the way. Thank you to the mods for organizing this fest (my first ever fest to participate in, too!) And thank you to cjmasim for the prompt idea. I knew exactly what I wanted to do when I saw it and I was very excited for an opportunity to play with ChoLuna! 
> 
> Prompt: Luna works for the Quibbler as a magizoologist. (Character of your choice) has been working for the Daily Prophet for a few years, but has decided to leave and join the Quibbler. When Luna ends up working with (character of your choice) on an assignment, she finds that they get along very, very well.  
> Preferred pairings: Luna/Cho, Luna/Ginny.

There is no professional office on Diagon Alley, just a rook-shaped house in Ottery St. Catchpole. No organized desk, only a rickety dining table cluttered with diagrams and books and knick-knacks. No sharp-eyed editor in fine robes, only Xenophilius Lovegood’s owlish eyes blinking behind blue-lensed goggles. 

Cho feels overdressed in her professional navy robes. Too organized with her brown leather briefcase at her feet. The briefcase contains her updated resume, her best article clippings, and several letters of recommendation. There is no room for any of it on the table. 

Xenophilius examines the back of a cereal box while consulting a book of rune translations. Cho thinks to remind him of her presence, but hesitates. He is awfully preoccupied. If she leaves now he might not notice, and she can stop by that new coffee shop on Diagon Alley to ask for an application. 

Just as she is gathering her courage to leave, Xenophilius thrusts the cereal box towards her. “Do you know what this one means?” He taps a strange purple symbol with his index finger. 

“Um. No, sorry,” Cho replies uncomfortably. She’s fairly certain it’s not actually a rune, but decides not to point this out.

“Blast,” Xenophilius curses. 

He launches into the interview then. It is unlike any interview Cho has sat before. The hour spent practicing interview questions with Marietta last night seems a waste, for Xenophilius does not care why she wants to work for the _Quibbler_ or what she can contribute (which is for the best, as her answers are hardly truthful.) Instead he wants to know her favorite dirigible plum recipe (a smoothie, though she’s never actually had one), whether she can knit (sort of), if she’s ever lucid dreamed (she doesn’t think so, no), et cetera. 

Luna wanders into the room partway through. She cheerily greets them both and sinks into one of the mismatched dining chairs. Cho fumbles over her next answer (yes, she can speak passable French, and knows a few Mermish phrases) as Luna bites into a dirigible plum. Juice dribbles down her chin and Luna sticks out her tongue and swipes up as much of the mess as she can. 

Cho really should have slipped out when she had the chance.

Instead, she sits through Caelum Harper (astrologer) reading her birth chart, and Flora Carrow (potioneer) offering her Babbling Beverage (which she declines, to everyone’s disappointment.) Harper and Carrow leave when Xenophilius begins shuffling tarot cards. 

“Oh dear. You’re having a difficult time of it, aren’t you?” Xenophilius asks. 

That’s when Cho begins to cry.

* * *

However put-together Cho looks, with her manicured nails or her sleek black hair, she’s quite fallen apart on the inside. Just when she thinks the damage is done and the dust has settled, bits of overlooked brick crumble and the new bits disturb the resting rubble. 

Rather than clean up the wreckage or rebuild what was lost, Cho covers it all with makeup and nice shoes and a pretty smile. Nothing to see here. It’s all fine. Everything is under control. 

The facade might be lovely, but she is as chaotic as this house. Bits and bobs thrown together without thought or care. She is the sticky spot from spilled tea and dried jam, she is the feather sticking out of a teacup, the yellow yarn tangled around a spoon.

* * *

Xenophilius and Luna both tilt their heads and examine Cho as the tears stream down her pinkening cheeks. Cho is too horrified to move or speak. It is a long minute or two before her brain kickstarts enough for her to dry her face on her scratchy blue sleeve. 

“Yes, Saturn does have this effect,” Xenophilius says with a sage nod. When he grabs his star chart, the tarot cards fly to the floor along with a stack of books. Cho cringes as they crash to the floor, but neither Lovegood blinks. Xenophilius jabs the offending planet with one finger. Luna steps daintily over the fallen books and plucks a small object from the table. 

“Here. This will help,” offers Luna.

“Oh. Thank you.” Cho takes the proffered item. A crystal, she thinks, though not like any she has ever seen. The ones Marietta likes to collect are all pretty. Pink crystal hearts and blue crystal moon and purple crystal stars. This one is sunshine yellow with veins of dark gold. It is misshapen — a hump here, a divot there, a rough rounded edge, a dull point. It’s sort of ugly, but Cho wraps her fingers carefully around it and holds it to her chest.

“Citrine aids in releasing negative emotions,” Luna explains. 

“Oh.” It might work better if it had a Cheering Charm, but she does not say so. “Sorry about this.” She wipes away another errant tear.

“Don’t be. Crying is good for you,” Luna says with a smile. 

Crying is actually quite embarrassing, especially at a job interview. Especially this job interview, Cho thinks unkindly. A surge of guilt twists in her gut. Awful as it is, she rather thought herself above the _Quibbler_ and its nonsense. Too good for them, and they’d be lucky enough to have her. Yet here she sits, having bungled the whole thing. 

Cho rubs her wet eyes one last time then grabs her briefcase. Xenophilius is still muttering, turning his chart this way and that. Luna stands to one side, still watching Cho with a serene smile. Cho can’t quite meet her eyes, or look at Xenophilius’s face as she rises to her feet. 

“Thank you for your time,” she says quietly.

“Oh, yes.” Xenophilius looks up at her with a mad grin. A squirming moon is trapped beneath his thumb. “You’re hired!”

* * *

Everything in life is wrong of late. Everything is different. Cho isn’t different. Cho follows her same routines, though none of them quite fit her new world. 

As she always has, Cho wakes at seven in the morning to get ready for the day, and arrives at her workplace by eight. She wears the same modest robes in the same modest colors. There is no cubicle for her at the Lovegood home, but she is granted use of the desk in Luna’s old bedroom. 

Not that Cho needs a desk, as she has nothing to do. Each day she asks Xenophilius what he would like for her to work on and each day he replies, “What would you like to work on?” Cho never has an answer.

Luna is only moderately more helpful when Cho asks for clarification. Luna smiles patiently, as though Cho is missing something obvious, as she replies, “Daddy wants you to work on what interests you.” 

“That’s it?” Cho asks. When Luna nods, Cho sits with her confusion for a while. No one’s ever asked Cho what she wants to work on. That’s not how jobs work. If she were lucky, her begging might pay off and she’d be granted a story she wanted, but that’s because there was a story to cover in the first place. It’s a wonder the _Quibbler_ gets printed at all with so little direction from its editor. 

“Why did your father hire me?” Cho asks.

Luna smiles. “Because you asked.”

* * *

No one’s ever accused the Lovegoods of making sense, so Cho buckles down and tries to think of something — anything — to write.

The sorts of stories that might have worked well for the _Prophet_ do not belong in the _Quibbler._ Xenophilius won’t care about the new werewolf rights legislation unless the Minister himself is a werewolf, or has an army of werewolves, or is being blackmailed by a werewolf. Cho crosses item after item off of her list, growing more frustrated and helpless with every strikethrough. 

When Cho approaches Luna again out of desperation, Luna suggests that Cho needs a muse. Of course, Luna does not mean a figurative muse, or an ancient goddess. Instead, Luna tells her all about the unseeable (and, coincidentally, unprovable) beings that exude an aura of inspiration. 

“Um…Where do I… _find_ a muse?” Cho asks. She might not believe in literal muses, but she won’t discount them entirely. Not now when she needs one so badly.

“You don’t. They find you,” Luna says. “They find you where they least expect you.”

* * *

_“Don’t you want to be happy, Cho?”_ were the last words Daphne spoke to her. If she closes her eyes, she can see those anguished hazel eyes so vividly that her eyes immediately snap back open to dispel the image. 

Cho hadn’t said a word then. Had only stood and stared at her girlfriend dumbly. The right answer was _“yes, of course”_ but the true answer was _“no, not really.”_ The sad, pathetic truth was that Cho valued contentment and security over joy and fulfillment. 

Her inability to voice the lie lost her that treasured contentment. And when the door slammed behind Daphne, the first of the bricks began to crash within Cho.

* * *

That last fight with Daphne and Luna’s advice replay in Cho’s head all night and all through the morning. Cho thinks that, maybe, in the loss of her treasured contentment, she might like to try for happiness. And in the loss of her security, it might be worth it to do the unexpected. 

This is why upon entering the _Quibbler_ headquarters, Cho heads not for the staircase, but for the living room. And she sits not on the appealing sofa, but the purple paisley pouf. Because she feels so ridiculous, Cho decides she must be on the right track, and she plucks a book from the nearest shelf to hide her flaming face behind. 

In this house, among these people, Cho isn’t sure why she feels so embarrassed. 

The day passes more or less the same as the others. Bangs and odors emerge from the basement as Flora experiments with new potions. (Cho hopes there will be no explosions, though “Potions Explosions” is a popular monthly column.) Caelum makes a brief appearance to hand in his article about the new moon in Aries, which he decides to read excerpts of aloud. 

For her part, Cho is as useless as ever, though she does begin to read the book she took. It’s about crystal healing of all things, and Cho pulls the piece of citrine out of her pocket and sets it on her knee when she reads about it. _Promotes clarity of thinking,_ would be handy, as would _encourages creativity_ . It also _helps facilitate new beginnings,_ which she thinks oddly appropriate. Luna did give her the crystal during her job interview. 

_Placement: on or near your solar plexus…_

Cho shoots a nervous look around the room. Another loud bang from below. Luna’s voice can be heard from the direction of the dining room as she tells Xenophilius about her plans to visit Sweden in search of something called ‘skvaders.’ 

She isn’t sure she believes in crystal healing any more than she believes in muses, but she slides to the floor all the same. She lays herself out and sets the misshapen crystal on her belly. That is where the solar plexus is, isn’t it? Cho reaches up to grab the book from her abandoned pouf and flips through the pages, just in case there is a diagram of some sort. How is she supposed to remember where all the chakras are, anyway? 

“Listen to this, Luna!” Xenophilius exclaims. “‘Knudhavn is the only all-Wizarding village in Sweden, _and it happens to contain the entire Swedish Wizarding population._ ’”

“Yes, Daddy. Several countries with smaller populations keep together in one location,” Luna explains.

“Yes, yes, but here, it says ‘ _Knudhavn is unique in that it is the only such village existing with_ **_no legal mandate_ ** _.’_ ”

They must be looking at brochures or travel books, for Luna comments on how happy the locals look while Xenophilius rants about how they seem brainwashed. Even Luna sounds flummoxed by her father’s assertions. Cho sits up as Xenophilius begins speculating about Compulsion Charms woven in with the Anti-Muggle wards, or how a magical artefact might be holding them all prisoner. Cho catches her citrine before it falls to the floor, and she rolls it between two fingers as Xenophilius’s words jumble in with the memory of Daphne’s and Luna’s.

_“Don’t you want to be happy, Cho?”_

_“They find you where they least expect you.”_

“Someone should investigate!” Xenophilius cries out. 

“I’ll do it!” shouts Cho. 

Luna and Xenophilius step into the living room as Cho scrambles to her feet. Though she is red-faced, the Lovegoods are grinning at her, so Cho repeats, “I’ll go. I can see if there’s, erm, anything amiss in Nut Haven.”

“Knudhavn,” Luna corrects.

“Right.”

“Will you?” Xenophilius breathes. “Marvelous! Well, you must check the wards, and keep an eye out for Dark Objects. And get an interview with their Minister, if you can manage it…Oh, and do you think perhaps…”

* * *

Of course, Cho doesn’t believe for one minute there is anything suspicious happening in Sweden. If the Swedish Ministry wanted to keep its residents in one location, they could easily enact legal mandates like those in other countries. And, popular tourist destination that it is, how would visitors escape if there is magic binding people to the village? 

Logic holds no sway with the Lovegoods, and Cho is too thrilled by the prospect of an assignment to even try. It’s the most excitement Cho can remember feeling for work in a long time. The most excitement for anything Cho can remember, really. 

She can’t help but feel hope that Knudhavn will change something for her. If it doesn’t attract a literal muse, perhaps she’ll find the figurative sort. Failing that, at least she has a story and can do something productive for a change. When (not if) she doesn’t find anything strange, she can spin it as a travel destination story. She’ll talk all about the conspiracy theory that brought her to Knudhavn, _‘and the fun and friends she found instead.’_

“You’re looking much better,” Luna comments when they meet Saturday morning. She holds a mangled red umbrella Cho assumes is their Portkey. “Has the citrine helped?”

“Oh, uh, I think so, maybe,” Cho agrees. She still isn’t quite sure how meditating with an ugly rock can help, but she keeps it in her pocket all the same. She’s kept it in her pocket every day since Luna gave it to her. 

She’s never been able to explain to herself why. 

“I’m very glad,” Luna smiles. “It will help more when you believe in it.”

“Umm…”

“When you have faith in it, it will have faith in you,” Luna explains. She holds out the umbrella, then, and Cho smiles awkwardly as she grabs onto it and does not respond.

* * *

Popular destination that Knudhavn is, the Portkey arrival spot is behind an inn. It even has a yellow Portkey recycling bin beside the dumpster. 

A mental to-do list springs to mind — put the umbrella in the bin, check into the inn, carry up their luggage, have lunch, explore the village — and just as quickly flutters away when Luna carelessly drops her luggage to the ground. Luna slips out of her brown sandals and dangles them over two fingers as she twirls her way across the grass. 

Cho clutches the umbrella and watches Luna. Luna, who spreads out her arms, head thrown back to the sky, and screeches out a strange bird call. 

_“Don’t you want to be happy, Cho?”_

There is a lot of village to see, and it is best to explore today to get a feel for where everything is. They should start soon if they want to fit it all in. 

This is a business trip, not a vacation. 

Cho hesitates. Can’t quite decide between checking off her list and seeing if the grass is as soft as it looks. Too preoccupied with what they should be doing to enjoy the warm spring sunshine on her face. 

Instead she stands and holds the umbrella and watches as Luna wobbles on one leg to stroke a cluster of blue flowers with her long, pale toes.

* * *

Nothing goes according to Cho’s plan this week. Exploring the village takes a full three days. Three days of walking cobblestone streets and passing brightly colored shops and smiling hello to cheery villagers. Luna is in no hurry to look for her skvaders, happy as she is to kneel in the middle of the street to introduce herself to an old woman’s purring puffskein. 

All number of things capture Luna’s attention. Colorful flowers, exotic fruits, friendly pets, a vendor selling talismans. Luna is unafraid to wander off and satisfy her curiosity while Cho looks at her watch and thinks helplessly of her list. 

But when Luna is busy examining a rosebush (to see if it’s attracted any figyps), Cho can’t help but look longingly at the nearby museum. And when Luna is teaching a song to small children, one that will ward off miraphs, Cho’s eyes are on the park. There is much to do and see, but Cho’s focus should be on finding artefacts and curses, not basking in the sunshine or gawking at artwork. 

Cho could focus on her task if Luna would focus on hers, but she doesn’t. The curiosity and pleasure Luna takes from the world around her only reminds Cho of how stuck she’s been for so long. It stirs within her a longing to let go and just _be._

_You have a job to do,_ Cho reminds herself sternly, _and you’re in no position to let Xenophilius down now._

* * *

By day four they make it to the outskirts of the village, where their real work begins. Cho finds herself a bit embarrassed when Luna comments, “Agata saw a skvader near the ‘broken tree’, so I think I’ll start there.” She points across the clearing to the treeline, where one of the trees has fallen. 

“Agata?” Cho asks.

“Hmm, yes. Young lady with red hair and dimples. This tall,” Luna says, holding her hand down. A child, then, Cho thinks. Luna managed to get information about skvaders, after all, while Cho has been too distracted thinking of all the things she wants to, but won’t let herself, do. 

Luna heads for the fallen tree while Cho draws her wand and begins looking for the wardline. Harry had given her a crash course on ward detection before the trip, but this is Cho’s first solitary attempt. Ward casting is notoriously difficult, but detection is easy enough. Wards require such powerful magic, it would take very crafty spellwork to mask its signature completely. 

The tricky part, for Cho, is reading them. An intricate design of colorful lines hovers above the ground. Each colored line is a different spell, but it is difficult to see past the whole for each part of it. Time is lost as Cho follows each line, translating spellwork using Harry’s notes. There is light, and color, and curling lines, and the heavy thrum of magic. 

_Anti-Muggle ward,_ she thinks, _Concealment charm. Some sort of alarm…_

“Did you find anything?”

“Hmmm?” Cho blinks slowly. The individual lines are lost to the whole again, and the design lost to awareness of the world around her. Cho squeezes her eyes shut against the sudden tension in her head and the exhaustion deep in her bones. She sways on her feet, but Luna reaches out to steady her. “No, nothing. You?”

“Not yet."

* * *

Everywhere they go, Luna looks for skvaders. Not only in the forest, but in rose bushes and beneath tables and even the roof of the inn. She asks children if they’ve seen them, and a group of old men, and even Mrs. Blomquist’s pomeranian. Luna finds other curiosities in her search, other hidden magics that no one else notices or cares about. 

It makes something in Cho’s chest ache. 

They part ways in the center of the village. Luna is off to the forest again, and Cho is left to hunt for Dark Objects she does not expect to find. For a brief, mad moment, Cho hopes to find something today. Something she can share with Luna when she returns.

* * *

“Nothing again?” Luna asks over dinner.

Dinner tonight is in a diner called Druvfisk. It’s a small, hole-in-the-wall place not often seen by tourists. Mrs. Blomquist assured Cho it is a favorite of the villagers. Cho entertains the idea that maybe Druvfisk serves a potion that keeps its residents enthralled. It is a silly thought, but Cho makes note of the specials board and tries to remember how to identify potions.

“No,” Cho replies. 

“Me, either,” Luna says. “Do you expect to find anything?” 

Cho opens her mouth but no words spill out. She has never been a good liar. And she has always been incapable of lying to people she cares about. Silence is better. She can feel her cheeks heat as she ducks her head. 

Luna prods her foot beneath the table and smiles at her. “I didn’t think so. It’s alright.”

“No, it isn’t.” Cho sighs and tugs at her plaited hair. 

“Sure it is. Daddy does have his silly ideas.” Cho’s head snaps up. Luna grins when Cho gapes at her. “Daddy is a complicated man. He values truth, of course, but he also loves a good story. His imagination runs away with him sometimes.”

Cho blinks.

“I have looked, of course, but I’ve seen nothing unusual,” Luna continues. “And the Minister’s aura is so lovely and warm. I trust her.”

“Oh.” There must be something smarter than that to say, but Cho can’t think of what it might be, only that she wishes she could find it. 

“Daddy will be disappointed, of course, but there will be other stories,” Luna assures her. “In fact, this week’s issue is very exciting. Daddy sent me an early copy. We have it on good authority that Kingsley Shacklebolt is a werewolf.”

* * *

There are no new disturbances within. No reason for her to suddenly see the rubble, but she does. The mess she has been so wilfully blind to is all she sees now. 

_It was easy. It was so easy. Come to Knudhavn. Produce something. Get back on track,_ Cho thinks to herself. Hopelessness is cold and heavy, and is disrupted by bouts of sharp panic. She does not sleep that night. 

Her whole life fell apart not long ago. Everything she knew turned upside down. Cho has tried so very hard to keep moving forward. To get back on track. Her whole world had changed, and Cho has not changed with it.

* * *

When Luna wakes the next morning, Cho sits up against the pillows and asks, “Why did your father hire me?”

“Because you asked,” Luna replies. It is the same answer she gave before. 

“He hires anyone who asks?”

“Generally.” No one is pretty in the morning, not even Luna. She is pale and her gray eyes are bleary and her blond hair sticks up all over. Cho’s heart skips a beat anyway as Luna sits up in bed and turns to face her. “You may not know this, but not many people have an interest in the _Quibbler._ Our openness is a blessing and a curse, Daddy says. People mock us. They don’t take us seriously.” There is no bitterness in Luna’s voice. Her slender shoulders pull into a shrug and her lips quirk up ever so slightly. “We stand up anyway, and we tell our truth. People need to see that, I think.” 

“They do,” Cho whispers.

Say what one will about the _Quibbler,_ but it is created by some of the most genuine, passionate, fearless people she’s met. Strange and awkward, yes, but so much more than that, too. There might be no conspiracy in Knudhavn, and maybe Shacklebolt isn’t a werewolf, but that doesn’t mean the _Quibbler_ isn’t providing something very important to the world.

A chance for people like Luna to not feel alone. 

A chance for people like Cho to see the world differently. 

“So you see, not many people ask Daddy for work, but when they do, he accepts them. He knows Fate brought them to us for a reason,” Luna explains. 

Never has Cho felt less worthy of working for the _Quibbler._ She sits quietly in bed with her arms wrapped around her legs. She watches the window as the pink sky turns blue. “What reason do you think I’m here for?” 

“I’m not sure, but I’m excited to find out,” Luna says. “You have so much potential, you know.”

* * *

Tired though she is, Cho wanders around Knudhavn that day. For the first time she has no agenda. Every step is uneven and uncertain as Cho sways between aimlessness and potential. Perhaps she is heading nowhere. Perhaps she’s heading towards wherever she is meant to be. The idea is both terrifying and invigorating. 

Over dinner, Cho and Luna recount their days. Cho tells her about running into Mrs. Blomquist and her pomeranian in the park. About people-watching while having tea alone. About the bookshop she visited and her new book of word puzzles. About her luxurious nap before dinner. 

Luna smiles at her the whole time. At the sight of it, Cho’s mess feels much less ugly and unmanageable. 

The debris in her mind isn’t cleaned up that day, though it looks very different by the end. As though her frivolous walk around the village shifted the rubble. A step forward, a brick moved. It’s all still a mess, but it’s her mess, and the mess is being reshaped one step at a time. 

In turn, Luna mentions shapes she found in the clouds, and her favorite tree, and a clearing she found with a pond. She’s not seen a glimpse of a skvader so far, but seems unperturbed by this. “Agata thinks they might like bubbleberries, so I’m going to bring some tomorrow.” 

“We could have a picnic by that pond,” Cho suggests. “Maybe the skvaders will come to us rather than us looking for them.”

Luna’s eyes light up. “Ooh, yes! They might be shy. If they see us having a nice time, and they smell the bubbleberries, they might like to join us.”

* * *

Their picnic brings no skvaders. Not any that Cho or Luna sees. 

Neither is necessarily looking, to be fair. The sky and pond and trees and grass immerse them in a world that is all green and blue wonder. Even the blanket they sit on is blue. So many shades of blue pieced together with lines of bronze thread that Cho follows with her fingers. 

It’s another world entirely. Knudhavn could be another country or another planet. This world is hers and Luna’s where they share sandwiches and juice and fruit. A world where there is only the warmth of the sun and the chirping of birds and the swaying branches overhead. 

There is only the air she breathes in — sweet, fresh air that fills her hungry lungs, and it feels like the first breath she’s taken in so long. She can’t remember the last time she breathed so easy. Can’t remember her mind being so calm and quiet. Their forest world is a magic of its own and it settles something within her bruised soul. 

Though, it might not be the forest. Maybe it’s Luna.

When the sandwiches are gone, they lay side by side on the blanket. Cho takes the citrine out of her pocket and sets it on her abdomen. The yellow is all the more radiant in the sunlight. _It doesn’t really need a Cheering Charm,_ she thinks. Luna smiles when she sees the crystal and leans her head against Cho’s shoulder to look down at it. Cho’s stomach flips at the soft weight of her, and the warmth of her face, and the fresh scent of her hair. 

They don’t say a word, even when Luna’s hand slides easily into Cho’s and their fingers lace together. 

They don’t say a word when Luna sets the bowl of bubbleberries on her belly. They take bubbleberries with their free hands, and sometimes they meet in the bowl. The pale pink and blue berries are sweet as candy. Sweeter from Luna’s hand.

They don’t have to say a word, because the warmth in Luna’s gray eyes says it all.

* * *

They do talk over dinner. They sit in a faded red booth in Druvfisk and read the latest issue of the _Quibbler_ together. Their heads nearly brush when they lean over the table. Luna twirls strands of their hair together around her finger. 

“You know what the _Quibbler_ needs? A crossword,” Cho says. 

“Ooh! That’s an idea,” Luna agrees. 

“I loved doing crosswords in the _Prophet_ growing up,” Cho says. “They were — well, still are my favorite part, actually.”

“Did you ever create their crosswords?” Luna asks.

“Hmm. No,” Cho replies. It never occurred to her to even ask. Her career had been about writing, not organizing word puzzles. 

“Did you like working for them?” Luna asks. 

“No,” Cho says. She doesn’t have to think about it. Maybe she’d known all along. “Actually…” She bites her lip and hesitates. The confession is an awful truth, the sort she had never been able to tell anyone — not Daphne, not herself, not anyone. “I don’t know that I ever liked my work.” Luna only watches her, waiting, so Cho continues. “I always wanted to be a journalist. Ever since I was little.”

Their food arrives then, so they part ways. Luna’s finger pulls back and Cho watches their hair, blond and black, cling a moment before parting. A reluctant farewell. Cho fights a smile as she sits back in her seat and is silent until their waitress walks away. 

“All I ever wanted to do was write for the _Prophet,_ ” Cho continues. “I remember my parents reading it every morning. My dad would tell me how important the newspaper was. How important information was — important to find and important to share. How we had to stay informed. 

“They wanted me to be involved, so they gave me the comics when I was young. Eventually grew my way into ‘real’ reading. Dad and I always fought for the crossword. It was this ritual, you know. Passing the paper around the breakfast table.” Cho shrugs with embarrassment. Some of her most precious childhood memories are of that paper. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t want to work for the _Prophet._

“When I graduated, I — well, you probably know. I was with _Witch Weekly_ for five years. It was all gossip columns and — and _fashion_ tips and that sort of thing. Nothing that mattered. But I — well. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was a stepping stone, I thought. Only when I did make it to the _Daily Prophet…_ ” Cho shakes her head. “I was thrilled. It was all I’d ever wanted, only…”

“It didn’t live up to your expectations?” Luna guesses.

“I think so. I guess I romanticized it. I thought I’d be contributing something important.” Cho picks up her fork and prods at her vegetables, though she suddenly doesn’t feel very hungry. “But it wasn’t much different. The gossip was about politicians rather than celebrities. And it wasn’t the truth that mattered. It was Galleons. Whatever it took to sell a few more copies.” 

“That’s why you left?”

For a moment, Cho holds her breath. She wants to say _“yes”_ because it sounds much better than the truth. Slowly, Cho shakes her head. “No.”

Luna nods and watches her. No judgment. None that she can see. Her eyes are soft and gray and _open_. 

“I didn’t like my job. I wasn’t happy or fulfilled. I was disillusioned by the whole industry, but — it didn’t matter. I thought... _this is what adulthood is._ People aren’t just happy. Dreams don’t come true. People don’t wake up and look forward to their work. That’s just...well, it’s silly. It’s just...I thought that’s all life was and I was fine with it. Nothing would have changed if...Well, if nothing had changed. And even when it did change...I didn’t change. Life just — just turned completely upside down. Daphne left me. I had to move back in with my parents. And the _Prophet_ was just...I don’t know. I didn’t care enough. I wasn’t hungry for it the way my colleagues were and they let me go. I never even considered a different career. I just sent my resume to every publication I knew and...Well. The _Quibbler_ was the only one to respond. So here I am.” 

There is no surprise or concern to be found in Luna. She only smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Truth was, Cho had not been. Not at first. For weeks she has felt so outside of herself and her life. Life before had been a strange dream and these past weeks she’s been groggy and confused, and today...

Well. Today she feels awake. For the first time in a long time.

Cho smiles in return. “I’m glad, too.”

* * *

Knudhavn has become more of a vacation than a business trip, and though there are moments of panic and doubt, she sets them aside and lets Luna redirect her attention. It’s easy enough to do. Luna is a lovely distraction.

They hold hands when they walk. Fingers find fingers without thought. And however sweaty or sticky or dirty Luna’s hands are, Cho holds on tight. And when Luna gives her cornflowers picked from behind the inn, Cho kisses her cheek and is delighted when Luna’s face glows pink. And when Druvfisk plays Cho’s favorite song (“Anomaly” by Peter and the Pumpkins), Luna asks her to dance.

There is no dance floor in Druvfisk, and the other patrons stare, but Cho laughs through her self-consciousness and keeps moving. 

On Saturday, the night of the full moon, they go camping in the forest. They come only with a brown tent, a basket of fruit, and one book. Luna takes the citrine from Cho and lays it in the grass to be charged by the moon. Cho does not question her wisdom. Instead she sits near her crystal and looks through Luna’s journal and reads all of her notes about the skvader. Everything she’s heard. Everything she’s done. 

On a clean page Cho begins to sketch. The top half of a hare, Luna explained, and the bottom half of a wood grouse. Since Cho doesn’t really know what a wood grouse is, the bottom half requires more coaching from Luna.

Luna presses close beside Cho. Her fluffy blond hair tickles Cho’s bare shoulder as she leans closer. “A little less curved here,” Luna points to the line Cho is drawing. Cho tilts her head ever so slightly to the right. It does afford a better view of her work, but it also brings her in closer contact to Luna. 

“There. That’s quite good!” Luna says when Cho is done. She sits straight and though Cho misses her warmth, this gives her a better view of Luna’s smile. 

“Maybe I should illustrate for the _Quibbler_ instead of writing,” Cho jokes. 

“You could. Daddy would like that, I think,” Luna agrees.

“Or maybe — I could put together some crosswords. Or other word puzzles,” Cho suggests. “Or...oh! I could have a little Do-It-Yourself section. I’ve always liked doing crafts and things.” 

Luna beams at her. Cho giggles at her own presumptions and ducks her head. “I’m only thinking aloud, Luna.” 

“Your muse found you!” Luna says happily. 

“My — oh!” Cho grins as well. Though Luna has told her muses are invisible, she can’t help but look around anyway. Cho half hopes they are real — actual beings floating in the air and looking down on them. She hopes to see something, hear something, even smell something that might speak of another presence. It would be nice if they are real. 

If they are not creatures or spirits, they are real within Cho’s heart. Maybe Cho hasn’t found her direction just yet, but she sees paths opening up before her. Endless possibilities. Hope. 

“I knew they would. Perhaps I should write a story about muses, instead,” Luna says. “The skvaders can wait.”

In the moonlight, Luna’s hair and eyes are silver. And her lips are purple from the pink and blue bubbleberries. In that moment, Cho believes in muses. Not figurative muses, and not invisible creatures, but beautiful souls that light up the world. 

“You should do that,” Cho says. And she’s caught between two urges, two strikes of inspiration. Doodling muses in Luna’s journal can wait, she decides. “Can I kiss you, Luna?”

“Oh!” says Luna. The clear surprise on her face is charming, if unexpected. What Luna’s made of their hand holding, Cho doesn’t know, but she doesn’t think much of it because Luna says, “Yes, please.” 

Cho takes both of Luna’s hands in hers as she softly brushes their lips together. The first kiss is brief, an introduction. The second lingers. On the third, Cho tastes the bright sweetness of bubbleberries. By the fourth they are laying down and the cool prickliness of the grass is ignored in favor of the soft warmth of Luna’s skin. On the fifth, Luna whispers into her mouth, “We should stay in Knudhavn a while, don’t you think? We’ve found so much here already. Imagine how much more we’ll discover with time.” 

Cho giggles and steals the sixth kiss before replying, “Yes, I think that’s a brilliant idea.” After the seventh, she says, “Maybe it’s something in the water.”

“Hmm?” 

“Knudhavn. That’s how they get people to stay. Why would anyone leave?” It’s as silly a reason as any of the others, and only a joke, but Luna gasps.

“You’re right. Goodness, even we’ve decided to stay, and we’re only visiting. We must have stayed too long,” Luna says. “We’ll investigate in the morning?” 

And, well — they do want to stay in Knudhavn. At least they have a good excuse to give their boss. “It’s the weekend, Luna. Let’s start on Monday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Knudhavn - name came from this fantasy town name generator: https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/town_names.php
> 
> Figyps and miraphs - magical creature names from nonsense word generator: https://www.soybomb.com/tricks/words/
> 
> Druvfisk - English to Swedish in Google translator for "Grape Fish." Why? I don't know, it just sounded fun to me. 
> 
> Skvader - 'a Swedish fictional creature that was constructed in 1918 by the taxidermist Rudolf Granberg', according to Wikipedia. What can I say? It looked cute.


End file.
